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A middle-class, post-teenage girl who lives in a fantasy universe most of the time and suburbia the rest of the time because she can't deal with reality.
She likes soft and shiny things and plans on writing the first Great American Epic Fantasy Novel.
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Friday, May 18, 2007
Things I'm Nostalgic For
I've been hit by some pretty intense waves of nostalgia recently, now that I'm about to graduate. Which is weird, because most of the things I'm nostalgic for I've pretty much stopped doing long before The End, and many of the things I'm nostalgic for I wasn't too keen on while I was doing them. Most of this semester has been spent being depressed, anxious, tired and stressed out. The last time I remember being happy, not merely laid-back or content, was during the last snowfall in February, when we had the whole day off school and I spent the day sledding with friends in pirate regalia, hoisting my skull-and-crossbones flag, broad-rimmed feathered hat, and plastic hook hand. None of us had actual sleds, so others used recycling bin lids, shower curtains, broken pieces of plastic... and I took my painted cardboard Roman legion shield ("SOL INVICTVS") on the last joyride of its short life. We spent the night watching Return of the King, cocooned by the swirling fury of a blizzard, me shouting joyously at the TV screen during battle scenes and reciting all the lines by heart, thoroughly making a fool of myself and not giving a damn.
(BTW, I believe the funnest way to watch Return of the King is to be interactive. For example, when they're thundering on the gates of Minas Tirith with that giant beast of a wolf-headed battering ram, chant "GROND! GROND! GROND!". When Theoden yells, "RIDE NOW! RIDE NOW!", clattering his sword against the Rohirrim's extended line of spears, shout back at him. Bonus points if you also blast on a ram's horn. More bonus points if you have an entire theater's worth of people to do it with you. If not, fuck 'em and do it yourself.)
I'm nostalgic for taking two hour lunches and sitting around with a mug of coffee knowing I have the whole damn afternoon to eat lunch.
I'm nostalgic for the big Sunday dinners we used to do with the guys, which Jose constantly missed out on. K, wielding lemon juice and Mrs. Dash, would bust out his Italian cooking skills, pesto pasta with pine nuts and sauteed red peppers and asparagus spears wrapped in prosciutto. There was that one time we baked a pineapple ham with cheesy potatoes, and the time when we did a barbecue and introduced Zaira (the foreign exchange student) to sweet potatoes ("Why is it orange???") and completely destroyed Brian Krummel's free promotional frisbee.
I'm nostalgic for studying in the library and falling asleep in their comfy chairs.
I'm nostalgic for going out with K and Chris and Jose to every big-budget hack-slash-n-explosion PG-13 comic book movie that came out at Muvico and K insisting afterwards that the movie was "so totally awesome!!!" even though it really, uh, wasn't. I would go bonkers because it's the only opportunity I get to drag guys to the mall. Then we would go to the Olive Garden or somewhere because despite the fact that K is Italian for some reason he doesn't ever get sick of Italian food, and Niall would order some drinks he'd regret in the morning.
I'm nostalgic for sitting and reading pulpy fantasy novels on the steps by the UC, surrounded by smokers, punks, lesbians, and smoker-punk-lesbians. I'm nostalgic for lying back on the bricks and staring up through the leafy canopy of the solitary tree, my novel long forgotten.
I'm nostalgic for pushing all the tables together in the dining hall into one big uber-table, in freshman year when everyone would converge at the same time so that we didn't have room to fit all the trays on one table, as if some big mama in the sky had rung a college-student dinner bell.
I'm nostalgic for flying my rainbow-sailed pirate ship kite in Erickson field and getting the damn thing stuck on the library roof, and the string entangled in the newly budding spring saplings.
I'm nostalgic for walking through Erickson and randomly yet consistently finding dropped ballpoint pens, and thinking it was my lucky day.
I'm nostalgic for our roleplaying games at Triangle frat house, where I'd wonder how many taps and bottles could possibly be in one apartment, and Curt would microwave hot dogs and ramen, because that's all the food the place has. The hyper demon puppy would slobber all over me, and we'd loaf around rolling ten-sided dice in the basement on comfy, discolored sofas smelling like dog drool and car seats plundered from minivans, complete with intact seat belts.
I'm nostalgic for roleplaying Sundays in our apartment, when we'd take turns cooking and throw things at each other (mostly at Jose, who'd fallen asleep). Curt would flirt with Katie and pinch her and give her foot rubs, much to her half-hearted protests. Halfway through, despite the cool white light of the energy-saving bulb, it'd get way too hot and stuffy in the room and we'd have to throw open the front door for a refreshing gust of night wind.
I'm nostalgic for walking down the hall of my dorm and seeing every boy in their room with their bigass earphones, playing either Counterstrike or World of Warcraft.
I'm nostalgic for sitting around in a lecture hall in class, staring at washed-out slides and paying attention to something genuinely interesting.
I'm nostalgic for being able to walk around randomly on campus and hearing music, drums from the upper open windows of the Fine Arts building, a man with a guitar and the sounds of laughter from a balcony in the cool evening air of summer, spring, or approaching autumn, a violin and flute duo on a courtyard bench.
One of the things I think sometimes is that if I die, heaven will be like a perfect college campus where bells toll the hour on the quad amidst august buildings and leafy oaks, with none of the sturm und strang of living, and all of the good things memories are made of.
posted by Angela at 12:56 PM
Wednesday, October 11, 2006
Someone has been chalking Voltaire quotes around the sidewalk lately. Here is one: "Someone said to Voltaire, 'Life is hard.'
Voltaire replied, 'Compared to what?' "
posted by Angela at 10:46 PM
From the September 24th Retriever Police Log: "Trial was held September 26, 2006 in Towson Circuit Court for one of the suspects (Thomas L. Gibson) for the armed robbery that occured on campus earlier this year outside Patapsco Hall. Mr. Gibson pleads guilty on statement of facts, was found guilty and returned to the Baltimore County Detention Center to await his sentencing trial on December 12, 2006. ... A second suspect, Richard Koranteng, was also arrested in connection to this offense and is presently out on $25,000 bail, while awaiting trial." This pleases me greatly. For those of you unaware, in August or so a student was robbed at gunpoint on the front steps of one of the dorms by a bunch of random dudes who just drove up, robbed him blind, and drove off. (There was also a spate of "the bodies-of-two-men-were-found-in-a-field"'s about this time.) Now see... if we were living in a city of comparable size (to this campus), we would go, "Oh, that's the risk of living in a city, there are always some bad apples." But what was particularly egregious about this case is that you're not being robbed by your own few bad apples, you're being robbed by them apples from another city who are going out of their way to drive all the way to your city to prey on what they see as easy pickin's. It's concerning when any fucker can just drive into your campus completely at random, hold you up at gunpoint, and then drive off without anyone having a damn clue at IDing. Well, I don't know how they did it, but I'm glad they caught these asshats. Hats off to you, police department, you actually followed through with something.
posted by Angela at 10:29 PM
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
| Tauren Druid |
 
Tauren, the not-very-gentle giants of the Horde, stand out above the rest. Pastoral at heart, they may feel the need to defend their fields - or their honour, if someone were to insult their fuzzy, glossy coat.
As a druid, you tend to be relaxed and accepting - though if there is something you don't want to do, then you won't do it - simple as that. You're an easygoing and versatile person.
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| Find out your real-life WoW race and class at QuizGalaxy.com |
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posted by Angela at 1:54 PM
Sunday, August 27, 2006
So! What Have I Been Doing Over The Summer? -Pericles by Shakespeare Theatre Company. Once upon a time a girl named Ange sat down to watch an enchanted play. And glitter fell from the sky and Diana walked on voluminous water. -Karissa got married! ... How is it that jeans-and-t-shirt turns into gossamer, satin, froth and veils, or dormroom hair to lady's coif? Is it the same person? People I know are getting married, and I'm starting to feel, if not old, then, adult. -My first job! I've been the phone and office monkey for Baltimore City Council at City Hall and discovering the inefficiencies and meaningless tedium of government employment, how pretty I look in a skirt, the Baltimore-UMBC bus route, the beauty of neo-Baroque municipal architecture, how to answer phones with powerless diplomacy, outdoor cafes, the old character of a city, new buildings built on top of and around old ones, the chugging diesel motor of the water taxi and the water rolling like a molten metal sheet and the skyline in a golden haze hanging on the horizon, and, after spiralling interminably up a stone gothic staircase, a clear sunny view of Baltimore from a belltower on a gold-capped dome. -Baseball. Air conditioned baseball, in a box. Hotdogs. Beer. Bad beer. Government work has its perks. I could get used to this. The getting sick at a bar in Fells Point, though, is an exception. NO MORE FUCKING NATTY-BOH. -Re: above ... I have discovered that I don't like beer. Not even Trappist beer. Belgian monks may find God through beer. As for me, in this respect I remain an atheist. -Visiting Fallingwater. The Mona Lisa of residential houses, if you haven't heard of it - I suppose not everyone's mom is a structural engineer. (She actually complains about its structural flaws, so don't believe that it's the praise that's informed me.) I find myself to be an ardent fan of beauty. Unfortunately, sometimes beautiful things come without air conditioning. I don't know that I'd want to live in a 30's house that despite everything is somehow showing its age. Nothing in particular, just the moldering scent of oldness. The interior of the house is vastly underrated, the way you flow like liquid from room to room, from inside to outside and outside to in, bed to terrace, steps to water, cavern to light; architecturally and philosophically, the artificial thing we call a "room" does not exist. After all, the outside of a house, beautiful as it were, graces postcards. The inside of the house though, is where you live. -Whitewater rafting! (Lower Youghigheny River, class III) On a scale of one to ten I rate this: "Awesome." As nerdy as I am, real adrenaline is unparalleled, all digital challengers not withstanding. I fell out twice (once because we rammed the boat in front of us for shits and giggles, and I bounced out on impact) and can tell you that even in late July, river water is cold -My glasses didn't wash off because I had the forethought to tie them on. Nonetheless, I'm of the belief that I'm good at rafting because I'm naturally lazy, odd as it may seem. My body doesn't wish to perform any movements that are more work than necessary, and so I paddle efficiently and well. Rafting is an unexpected combination of wild sensation and quick, coordinated discipline (mostly involving being shouted at like a galley slave). Other notes: consigned to a suburbanish "campground" complete with pool, arcade, and trailer park. Wet sleeping bag + insects + night-time temperatures in the 50's = shivering ick. But nothing beats s'mores and setting things on fire. I toasted the whole shebang instead of just the marshmallow and everyone thought I was a genius. -Have you ever stood under a waterfall in a torrential downpour? The world is gray and silver and pounding and wet. -Got my driver's license. -Love's Labor Lost, Shakespeare Theatre. It's like Shakespeare: The Band. Which is not a bad idea. I am so glad I didn't live in the seventies, because man I would've embarassed myself. -Going to the Montgomery County Fair and kissing on the Ferris wheel. Playing carnival games and losing, and knowing you'll lose due to the imperceptible yet unyielding mistress of the universe, Physics. Admiring epic vegetables. Eagerly anticipating the 4H queen. Spinning mobiles in the sun and wind. Bunnies, chickens, poo and hay. Behemoths made of living beef. Allergies. Equestrian ballet, the Star Spangled Banner, and polo to August glare. Summer evening and the smell of roasting cinnamon nuts and the rhythm of a blacksmith's hammer. Such is the stuff of life. -Dieting -Watching the Army Band play at the greensward by the Washington Monument, joggers in the park comically exercising to the full brass blast of the live Olympic theme (not every day do you have your own theme song!), the silhouette of uniformed men in swinging strides (black shadow with white glowsticks), cannons firing in time to the 1812 Overture and a brief surge of joy and billowing clouds of gunsmoke on the wind, soft and pale against the dark sky. -Beat Final Fantasy I, am now working on Final Fantasy II and Tales of Phantasia. Go emulators! -Reading: La Chanson de Roland, The Complete Odes and Epodes of Horace, Prince Valiant: Volume 1, and the Crown of Stars .. uh... septilogy.. or trying to.. MAN I'm a nerd! -Writing poorly written surrealist short stories -Playing the violin and butchering Eine kleine Nachtmusik.
posted by Angela at 2:46 AM
Sunday, July 16, 2006
So, my sister Maggie had her first kid on Friday. Welcome to the world, Victoria!
posted by Angela at 1:23 AM
Thursday, June 22, 2006
So I had this dream where I met Randolph Carter, and he was telling me about the nature of dreams, and how sometimes you're sure something is true in a dream, but it really isn't. But I don't remember anything about the dream itself at all, so it's rather strange.
posted by Angela at 3:16 PM
Friday, June 02, 2006
Political Indoctrination FTWBecause there's nothing better for a children's book than an elephant trampling over a homeless man.
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